


there's a hole in my soul

by alifeofourown



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeofourown/pseuds/alifeofourown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis needs to write this letter. just one more letter to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a hole in my soul

       His fingers shake a bit as he sits down at the desk and begins to write, scrawled script turning smooth as the velvet words sink into the paper.  
  
  
 _Dear Zayn,_  
  
 _I know I’ve been putting this off a long time now, but I do have reasons. I’ve been busy between uni and helping mum out with the girls. Lottie asks about you a lot. She’s always wondering why you’ve not come back to see her because you promised you would. Then again, you promised a lot of things that you didn’t stick to, so I’m not too terribly surprised. I just wanted to keep you updated on everything, let you know that the girls are doing well and they made you a card. I’m sticking it in here so you can read it whenever you’ve got some free time._  
  
 _Remember how we were always talking about getting into the music program together? Well I did it. They almost didn’t consider me at first, said I wasn’t good enough to attend their music program and to try a different uni, but Harry slipped a disc of my recordings into the academic office after my audition and apparently they liked it enough to take me on. I never thought it would happen, but maybe it means I’ll have a chance at making it into the industry someday, and if not I can at least end up working for the radio. That media degree won’t go to waste._  
  
 _You know, I was thinking the other day about how you wanted to go into English, become a teacher. We could’ve worked together at it, you writing the lyrics and me doing the music, although we’d have to end up doing the music together because you always had the better singing voice, and I can’t play instruments to save my life. Well no, that’s not true. I picked up the piano a little bit as of late; can play three or four tunes without too many wrong keys being pressed._  
  
 _Dad called the other week. Said he’d like to have me and the girls come visit him sometime soon and that he’ll even take us to The Deep when we come visit. I don’t really want to do that because The Deep just reminds me of our first date and you mocking me about my love of whales, which are still better than dolphins in ways that you’ll never know. I’ve still got the adorably stupid stuffed animal that you bought me at the end of the day. It’s sitting on my desk, right next that photo of us from Christmas. You know the one with the reindeer antlers._  
  
 _It’s not going to be the same without you this holiday. Christmas is supposed to be cheery, right? But all I’m going to be thinking about is how much different it’ll be without you by my side. I guess that’s just something that I’m going to have to get used to, right? Can’t change the past. Is it nice where you are at least? I’ve heard a load of different things but no one really knows until they get there. It’s probably best I stop this letter soon. I’ve got to get to work and then study for an exam so that I don’t fail out before I even start what I was worked so hard to get into._  
  
  
  
 _Just wanted to let you know that I miss you. I guess I’ll see you again someday, and if I don’t then we had the best of times, and that I can’t forget._

 

_Always yours,_

_Louis_

  
       It’s hard for Louis to push the letter into the unmarked envelope, and when he slips the card that his sisters made he starts to cry, silent tears marking the white envelope with transparent drops. “Fuck,” he whispers, wiping the tears from his face before his blue eyes become rimmed with red.  
  
       He sticks the envelope with all the others, tucked in a small box that’s filled to the brim with sealed envelopes that aren’t addressed, just labeled with a name that’s seared on his heart.  
  
Zayn Malik.  
  
       He closes the box and tucks it beneath his bed, burying it there until it’s needed again for yet another letter that he knows he shouldn’t write but always does. Someday he’ll be strong enough to share them with someone, most likely Harry, and maybe someday he’ll even move on, but until then this is what he needs to keep breathing. **  
**


End file.
